An Arrival
by eavan
Summary: Alaska's no place for a lone black dog, and the black dog knows it.
1. Springtime in Alaska

Be it known: I own none of the characters you recognize, and I'm not making any money.**

* * *

**

**Springtime in Alaska**

"And you…" The man's drunken bellow sounded near my ear. I turned toward him, half wondering if it was smart to do so. "Look at you." He said at a lower volume. His dark hair shone under the light, but his wan face was sickly. "Never had to think of it."

His arms rested heavily on the bar next to me. Looking at him at length I was surprised he was still on his stool at all, let alone talking. His arms sagged under their own weight, the muscles loose and uncoordinated. He'd gone back to looking fixedly at the polished surface in front of him. I heard, and then felt, the concussion of his boot toe slipping from the foot rail and hitting the side of the bar. His head dipped lower.

"They're looking for me." His words flew out in a rush, only barely accented by all the drink. But his head hadn't moved, and they remained muffled against the bar. I turned toward him, resting my elbow on the bar as I faced him.

"Who is?" I asked quietly. As it came out I wondered what had seized me to make me step in the middle of this—this man's angry drunkenness that could only cause me worry. Maybe he'd ignore me.

"My friends." He laughed through his nose as he spoke. If I'd been turned away to miss the sneer on his face, I'd have mistaken the sound for sobbing. I looked at him as he adjusted his posture, trying to stay upright and train his eyes on my face. "My family."

"But you don't want to go back." I finished. A detached and tiny voice in my mind wondered what the hell I thought I was accomplishing by continuing to talk to him.

"I don't want your pity." He snarled at me, leaning toward my face, his graying teeth snapping near my cheekbone as I turned my face. I felt one of my dogs stand up near my feet. He maneuvered his body between the man's stool and mine.

"You don't have it." I managed, my voice flat. Two more of my dogs had come over from the hearth of the fireplace.

"Going to set your dogs on me, girl?" He gave another sneering laugh and returned to his slouch against the bar. My dogs sat one by one, their ears still perked.

"No." I said simply, turning to take a drink of my neglected whiskey. Before I could turn back the man leaned close to my ear.

"These muggles don't know what you're doing; I do." He said. I tensed my muscles involuntarily, making an effort not to show surprise. I turned my eyes toward him, forcing my face not to move.

"My dogs might attack you if you touch me." I notified him. "They don't like some people." I expected some leering remark. I expected him to reach for me, and for Blue, my half-blind old lead dog, to try to snap his hand off at the wrist. Instead the man leaned his head back and laughed. He had a short and forceful laugh like a bark. As he tilted toward the light his face looked younger. He laughed with his mouth wide and his teeth showing, like a dog running.

"But you like me." He declared. He leaned closer again, his eyes focusing a little more clearly on my face.

"So you say." I said, my eyebrow raised. I turned to the bar to toss back the last drops of my whiskey.

"Another, Dempsey?" Brooks, the bartender, called down to me. I shook my head. No need to call him away from the pretty tourist asking about gold panning, and no need to keep myself there with the drunk who seemed to know something about who I am.

"Dempsey," the drunk man echoed. I turned back to him automatically and flinched when he grabbed my hand. He brought my knuckles to his lips. They were dry and cracking; his breath was hot between my fingers. But above all else I felt the crackle of energy up my arm, standing my hair on end all the way to my scalp. He let go and I turned away stiffly. I gestured for my dogs to follow me out the door, and behind me I heard the man's loud, barking laugh.

* * *

"Oh get up, princess." I instructed crossly. Delphine lounged there on her straw, disregarding me utterly. "You think you don't have to work when there aren't sheep, lazy?" I banged a mitten-covered hand against my thigh, and she obliged me by perking her ears. I banged again.

Slowly, the huge dog got to her feet, shaking the sleep out of her muscles. Delphine's a Great Pyrenees and something else—hard to say, now. She's as big as I am. The rest of the dogs are Malamutes, either pure or nearly pure. I run the fifteen of them in varying configurations in sled teams. Delphine's a bear dog.

All right, you can uncurl yourself. Yes. I meant "bear dog." She was raised with a flock of sheep, and her breed makes her a protective herder. So she's perfect for this place, this close to the edges of the clear cut. She's bred and trained to run off everything from bears to wolves. She's done it all her life, she likes it, she does it with a team of bear dogs for the shepherds every spring in the new clear cuts, and she serves as my bear alarm during the cold months. She barks at them, she trees them, and they don't eat the sheep. Or me. Or her. It's a nice life, I guess.

While I'm going on about dogs I might as well explain what one woman's doing in a hut on the tundra with a pack of them. I live here while the tourists are up. I run teams pulling tourists in fake sleds so they can pretend they're gold miners or something. In the winter I move out closer to an airstrip and keep the dogs for supply runs to the hinterland. And like I mentioned, in the spring I loan out Delphine to the shepherds running herds through the clear cuts for the logging companies.

And I guess your next question might be about what I'm doing here. Fair enough. My father was from the UK. My mother was an Alaskan native. For whatever reason, they chose to raise me here. Now neither one of them is still around, but I still am. So there you have it. Yeah, I left to go to school near the sea, where all the towns are, but I got sick of the people and the racket. So I'm back. And I guess I'm staying.

I continued down the line of straw beds in the yard, checking the dogs over as they stretched in the morning light. I love the way dogs stretch. Nothing matters to a dog outside the movement from forelegs to back legs. Nothing but the feel of their ribs stretching and their ears moving occupies their minds. Dogs understand some things I'm sure I don't. Delphine blew a puff of air against my leg as I stopped to check Blue's front paw for lacerations. She nosed at the seam of my pant-leg. "All right, girl," I allowed. "I'm going after your breakfast."

* * *

I chewed the end of my sandwich in preparation for the next wave of cruise ship passengers. I'd rented a booth in the "wild west" themed set of storefronts the cruise line had built at the landing for their shore craft. Out behind it was a normal dog shed, but the front looked like a saloon from an old cartoon, spindly railings and all. The line even asked all of the contractors and employees to dress the part while in town. I kicked up a fuss about it enough that I was allowed to wear sane clothes on the actual sled runs, but so help me.

So help me, I was sitting in a fake saloon store front with a big desk covered in price boards selling sled rides of differing lengths to a bunch of retirees. And I was doing it in a dress. I brushed the remaining crumbs off my vest-thing. I'd been wearing the contraption for a while now, but it still seemed a little mystifying. I had a fairly normal shirt and a skirt with a drawstring waist, but this odd vest deal perched atop all of it, sucking in the fabric around my middle and making the rough material rub at my ribcage all day. I was constantly yanking at it, then realizing the neck of my shirt was open way too far in the front, or had migrated way too low. Stupid costume.

But the cruise line was on to something. The tourists ate this charade up. They meandered off the docks onto the groomed pathways in their city-slicker hiking boots, just aching to spend money. I stood to get a better view of the landing zone, and cursed lightly when I saw a boat there already discharging passengers. I slammed my folding chair shut and whisked it into a closet, adjusting my costume just in time for the first faces to approach the desk.

Eight hours of short runs later I was too beat to think about making dinner. I shoveled out the feed for the dogs and watched them clear it up, then set to playing. The flowers that come up in the clear cuts are miraculous to me every year, even though I've seen them all my life. I guess you have to be here during the dark winter to understand how improbable it seems. It's just dirt and stone for so long, then grass, then blooms. Hundreds, thousands of them. A small breeze pushed in from the water, and the dogs turned their noses to it. I faced the water as well, and watched the last launch fade away from the shore.

I was hungry. There was no way around it. The breeze was getting chilly for the night, the dogs were still playing, and there was nothing in the house but enough corn flakes for breakfast tomorrow morning. I took a breath, feeling beleaguered.

"Delphine!" I called. She lumbered toward me, her ears relaxed and her mouth hanging happily. "Run 'em in, girl." She gave a short, low bark and turned to observe her quarries. Within minutes she'd run the pack back to the enclosure, where they continued to wrestle happily. I motioned her back out with me, eyeballing the level of the water troughs before closing the gate. I fished my wand from my jacket and set a series of protective wards around the pen.

"Into town with us, girl." I informed her. She fell in beside me, her tongue hanging lazily out the side of her mouth. I rested my hand on her broad head, pushing my fingernails into her thick white coat.

We were just beyond an edge marker for the town—one that advised the tourists to turn back for fear of grizzlies—when Delphine tensed. Her ears pricked up at once, and the hair along her back stood up. She lifted her tail, inhaling deeply and planting her paws. I closed my fingers around my wand and matched my sight line to hers.

* * *

A/N: I like any review, but I'd especially like feedback on this character. I'm using this story partly as a writing exercise to get her clarified in my mind. I'd love your suggestions or general thoughts. Thanks. 


	2. The Black Dog

**The Black Dog**

Delphine's deep bark stood the hair up on my arms. I still couldn't see the bear, but I could begin to smell it. I faced the direction Delphine faced, hoping and worrying. Then I heard another bark.

A massive black dog ran to my other side, mimicking Delphine's stance. She didn't challenge him—she nearly didn't react. I felt my attention wandering and snapped it back to the bear. I still couldn't see it.

We faced a line of young trees with slender trunks and low branches. They were perfect climbing territory for a bear. Delphine began to edge in front of me, forming a wall with her side. The black dog edged over behind her. I angled my steps behind them, recognizing the way Delphine guided the sheep away from treed bears.

We walked that way for some time; the dogs stayed on my right with Delphine in the lead, and I walked nervously on the left. As we neared the lights of town I could feel my hands begin to shake in my pockets. The dogs' ears started to relax, and I noticed a change in Delphine's gait. She was no longer on full alert. The black dog fell back as we entered town, then wandered off into an alley. I turned back for a while, but knew better than to go looking. Any dog stubborn enough to take on a bear is a dog I don't want to cross.

Delphine seemed to agree. She walked on toward the bar without looking back, and headed straight for the hearth once we arrived. I plowed into my dinner at a table near her, wondering absentmindedly how there was a dog in town I hadn't known as a puppy.

* * *

The heavy scrape of chair legs took my attention from my meal. There he was, making himself at home. I peered at him openly, confused and annoyed. In the more even light of the seating area I could see he wasn't as old as I'd thought. His face was deeply lined, but young enough for the dark head of long hair he had. His eyes were much keener as he looked back at me. So he's sober. 

"Going to hex me?" He asked quietly, a teasing grin in his voice.

"Don't act crazy." I answered quickly.

"Hiding, eh?" He said too loudly.

"What do you want?" I snapped, too aware that Brooks had already trained his attention on the strange man at my table. "You can be heard here."

"I need to talk to you." He said. His eyes creased at the corners with suppressed mirth.

"I'm sure you don't." I said, turning back to my meal.

"And I'm sure I do." He returned calmly. We sat in silence as I finished my dinner. I patted my thigh to call Delphine, and rose to put my coat back on. He stood as well, a mild look on his face. I glared at him.

"Good night," I said tensely, unsure what I'd do if he decided to follow me from the table.

"I don't think so." He said, his voice still placid. I turned away from him and motioned to Delphine, who followed me into the night. I heard someone leave the bar behind me and I tensed, sure I'd have to have it out with the man. I fingered my wand, annoyed. I'd wrapped my fingertips in the long fur on Delphine's head as I walked slowly to the edge of town, so I immediately felt her change direction.

"Stupid bear," I grumbled, thinking I'd have to worry my way past the treed bear again on the walk home. But Delphine didn't bark. She walked a few steps in front of me and shot her forelegs out in front of her, her mouth hanging open.

"There's nothing out there to play with, crazy dog," I muttered, staring pointlessly into the darkness. I couldn't see a thing. Delphine darted to the side and crouched again. The big black dog came barreling out of the night in front of us, twisting and jumping with Delphine. I laughed at my former tension and stood for a while at the edge of the town's lights. The two dogs barked and ran until their tongues hung nearly to their knees.

"All right, Delphine." I said, finally motivated to finish my walk home. The day's work had settled in my shoulders, and I was ready to sleep. "Let's go home." Delphine reluctantly came to walk next to me. She kept darting glances back to the black dog; he walked a distance from us but kept pace. We continued like that for some of the distance, but it was clear enough to me that the dog was following us home. I started talking to him.

"All right, boy. No need to be shy." I patted my leg and clicked my tongue a few times. "Come on, now. You'll cut your pads on those rocks off the trail." The dog ranged closer in. "That's right," I soothed, clicking my tongue again. The dog pulled closer still. By the time we neared the enclosure the dog had joined us on the trail.

I pulled my wand out of my coat pocket and deactivated some of my precautionary spells. I opened the pen for Delphine, but I wasn't truly surprised when the black dog didn't enter. I knelt to him, holding out my hand. "Well, boy? Have you eaten yet?" He nosed toward me with a degree of trust I've only seen is domestic dogs. "You're somebody's baby; I can tell." He sniffed at my mitten, then backed up and sat. "Nice manners," I smiled. I grabbed a scoop of dog food and headed toward the house, urging the dog to follow me.

He walked into my cabin without hesitation, and surprised me by sitting just inside the door. Most dogs either go for the fire or follow the food. I brought the light levels up to get a better look at him. "Come here, baby," I urged, sitting on the floor. He sat still. "Now, don't get shy now that you're here." I held my hand out. He stood and walked close enough to put his muzzle in my hand. I looked closely at his face.

"Not too many scars," I thought aloud. "Not too many run-ins with the bears and wolves, I guess." The dog turned his face sideways in my hand and shot a puff of air out his nostrils. "All right, I'll leave you alone." I took my hand away and stood. He walked beside me as I placed a dish of food on the floor.

I smothered a yawn as I stood. I wandered to the wardrobe and pulled out some long johns, which I threw on the bed in the corner. I saw the dog bend to the food as I started pulling off layers of clothes. By the time I was dressed for bed and had tossed my clothes in the laundry, the dog had finished and was sitting stiffly with his back to me. I watched him for a moment, amused.

"You're a pretty weird dog, you know that?" I said, walking toward him. He turned his face to me once I was close. "Were you hiding your eyes?" The dog turned his face away from me, resuming his stiff posture. I laughed. "Oh come on," I said, crouching to his level and stretching my hand out. "We're still friends, right?" His tail smacked the floor a few times, and he nosed my hand. "Okay, then," I concluded.

* * *

The next morning my alarm went off with its usual torrent of abuse. It had been a joke gift at school, and I'd become so used to it that muggle alarm clocks never quite did the job. I slapped at it blindly, still mostly asleep. I was understandably shocked when another hand joined me in fumbling with the alarm. 

I screamed, bolted out of bed, and grasped at my wand. This turned out to be pointless, as the hand had grabbed my wrist so tightly I could barely hold a grip. I twisted to face the hand's owner. The drunk. A parade of curses marched through my mind, but all that came out my mouth was a tiny choked sound.

"I'll take that," he said, taking my wand and setting it down out of my reach.

"What do you want?" I asked, surprised how weary my voice sounded.

"I need to talk to you," he said, releasing my wrist but standing between me and my wand. I darted my eyes around. The doors and windows were still shut. My brain stuttered, trying to work it out.

"Then talk." I said, moving from confusion to annoyance.

"I know you're a witch," he began, "and I need to contact some wizards in London."

"So send an owl." I interrupted.

"No," he said calmly. "I'm going to send you."

"What?" I blurted, my annoyance blooming into anger.

"You're going to go to London and deliver a message to some friends of mine. You're going to do that, come back here, and allow me to alter your memory." He rattled the plan off like a grocery list, with no regard for the life-changing aspects of it.

"The hell I am." I said firmly.

"You will." He said, stepping closer to me. "You can choose to do it, or I can force you. But you'll do it."

* * *

Please review. Thanks. 


	3. Family Secrets

**Family Secrets**

"Leave it, Blue. Go on." I tossed commands at the dogs like I didn't have a formerly-wanted, supposed-to-be-dead wizard in my cabin. I steered sled after sled of tourists up and down the trails as they shot photographs that would come out blurry from the jarring ride.

"Hold, team," I barked. And here we were again, back at the store front for the final load of cruise ship customers to scurry off for the dock. I posed for another photograph in the idiotic dress with a sullen teenager and two of the dogs.

I unhitched the team and sent them to an exercise pen while I took the last reservations of the day and closed the shop. With the shades drawn I tore off the vest thing and the skirt, yanked on some pants, and pulled on a huge sweater I'd stolen from an ex-boyfriend. The sweater was the best thing about him, I thought, grinning at my own wit.

"Men," I snarled to myself, thinking of Sirius Black. Yes, that's the supposedly-dead, newly-pardoned wizard in my cabin. That's the man who's going to knock me out of Alaska and into London this weekend. He'd promised to care for the dogs in my absence, fend off any representatives of the cruise ships, and basically make the whole trip seem like I'd gone to visit my grandmother. In exchange for this huge favor, he'd promised not to tell the entire town I'm a witch.

Perhaps you're thinking: witch? Like they'd believe that. Well they would. That's why my mother doesn't live out here anymore, and that's why my father doesn't either. In fact, that's part of why I live so far outside town. It's also part of why the town I chose to live near is a tourist town full of people who don't stay long. I don't like that memory—the memory of people finding out my mother was a witch, that is—and I don't have anything more to say about it.

I finished shoving my things into my backpack and walked out the front of the shop to lock it. Brooks, the bartender, was walking down the center of the road toward the bar. "Going to come have a beer, Dempsey?" He called.

"Sorry, man," I demurred. "Got to go see if Black burned the cabin down."

"Nice of you to take that guy in," Brooks said, his voice dropping to a conversation level as we met in the street. "I thought you two were going to brawl when he started talking to you at first." Brooks smiled.

"Nah," I shook my head. "He's annoying, but he kind of reminds me of my dad."

"He was English, right?" Brooks asked.

"Dad never said it that way," I evaded. "He always said he was from the UK. I think it was one of those old political things, kind of like home rule in Ireland, you know? I didn't pay much attention in that part of history class, though."

"I hear that." Brooks laughed. "Well, work's waiting for me."

"Dogs are waiting for me," I agreed. "Later, man." He tossed a wave over his shoulder as he continued down the street. I was getting better at delivering the lie. Black had been at my cabin for nearly a month. And while he was good at taking care of the dogs, being partly dog himself, he was a walking invasion of my space. I kicked a toe in the dirt as I headed around the back to free the dogs from the pen. As I started walking up the path with the herd of dogs I forced myself to pay attention to the clear cut line, to watch for bears, and to stop being sore at Black.

* * *

"You have everything," Black said again, his unusual eyes narrowed at me. I gulped back the urge to tease him for being such a nag.

"I've got it." I confirmed. And I did. I had a packet of papers shrunk and concealed in my old clothes—ones I hadn't worn since school—that I'd wear to apparate to Juneau before starting the long trip to London.

"Right," he confirmed, his voice tight. He'd started pacing a pattern in the dog enclosure where we stood. I pushed my hands deeper into my robe pockets and looked at him intently.

"Look, Black," I began. I wanted to tell him he'd be all right, or something, but I didn't know that at all. And I wasn't going to lie to him. I'd started to kind of like him. "I'll get it done. I'll do it and come back here, and you'll know what has to happen next, right? Even if it doesn't come out like you want, you'll have a plan."

"And you'll never see me again," he said teasingly, his face again creased with a mocking smile. I wasn't convinced, entirely, but I played along.

"Exactly," I said smartly, gesturing at him. One of the team dogs wandered close to me and I ran my fingers through her fur as she passed. He stared out toward the tree line, his face flat. An unfamiliar pressure rested in my chest. "And if it doesn't, you know…" I trailed off as he turned to face me again. He looked at me keenly. "If it doesn't go like you think, I mean, with the people I'm supposed to find…"

"Right," he nodded.

"I mean, you're pretty good with the dogs. You won't have to just…" I trailed off again, flinging my hands away from my sides. "You won't have to take your chances with the bears, you know?"

He nodded toward me, his face momentarily serious. Then he changed into dog form and loped off to the opposite edge of the enclosure to find Delphine. I walked out of the pen, shut the gate, and apparated to Juneau for the first time in five years.

* * *

When I arrived in London I was utterly drained. The trip had pitched my body through enough curves to make me wonder if I'd ever voluntarily eat again. I cast my eyes around the international arrivals platform, internally begging Black's instructions to be correct. I knew I was looking for a sign indicating directions to Diagon Alley. From there, I knew I needed the Leaky Cauldron pub, and a bed. I straightened my shoulders, took in a deep breath, and stepped farther toward the crowd.

After nearly a full circuit of the arrivals area I found the sign Black had described. I followed the directions to Diagon Alley and got to the inn without further bouts of confusion, not counting a long interval spent staring in the windows of an owl post office. Juneau had an owlery, but it was nothing like that. Once I'd secured a room in the Leaky Cauldron I collapsed there, too tired even to consult the pages of notes in my pockets.

When I woke the street outside was filled with people wandering back and forth. It was like the confusion of the wizarding streets at home, but magnified. I stared out the window a while, impressed with the sheer number of wizards and witches walking the streets. Alaska simply didn't have that many—not even in the whole state.

At length I shook off the slack-jawed stupefaction and started to pull the notes from my pockets. I left the papers Black wanted me to give to his friends in shrunken form and returned his directions to their proper size.

"All right, Black," I muttered to myself, "I'm here. What now?" I pulled out a paper with a sketched map of streets on one side and a series of instructions on the other. "Lupin, Weasley, Granger, Potter, Tonks…" I read the list of possible contacts. "Like wizards keep phone books, Black. Come on." I groused, frustrated.

I flipped the page over. On it were a complicated series of instructions that would land me outside a house I wouldn't be able to see at first. In there, Black hoped, would be several people who wanted to hear from him. I was not to approach the area if I saw any evidence of "battle."

"Battle?" I muttered to myself, incredulous. "What are you getting me into?"

* * *

I'll just mention again how much I like reviews, and how much they help me, shall I?


	4. Friends Like These

**Friends Like These**

I decided to stall by going to change my dollars into galleons. The branch of Gringotts was comforting and disturbing in the same way the street was—it was just like the one in Juneau, but magnified to a level that made me want to walk out, collect myself, and try going in again. Instead I stood my ground a moment, gawking until I found the proper desk to approach. On my way out the door I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a small hand tug at my robes.

"Excuse me." The kid peered up at me, his massive blue eyes widened to their fullest extent. "Are you American?"

"Yeah," I said distractedly, looking for a break in the flow of pedestrians.

"What's it like?" The child continued. I looked down at him again more pointedly, and was alarmed to see no one with him.

"It's okay, I guess," I mumbled, casting my gaze around. "Are you lost?"

"No," the kid smiled, "you are."

"What?" I finally said, nonplussed. My head was still fogged with travel, and to be honest I just wanted to leave the kid there on the street alone. I wanted this over with, and little blue-eyes was in the way.

"You're lost." The kid repeated, latching his hand firmly around mine. I glanced around quickly again in consternation.

"No one's here with you?" I tried in a kinder voice, looking at him directly.

"You are." The kid returned. "And now we're going to go see my uncles."

"Where are your uncles?" I asked quickly, seeing an opportunity to latch the kid onto someone else.

"I'll take you." The kid said happily, tugging my arm the wrong direction down the street. His little legs were faster than you'd think, and I hardly had time to mark my position as we moved. In fact I was trying to do that when he stopped suddenly in front of a lurid storefront. "They're here," he said simply, dropping my hand to press his palms against the door. It was too heavy for him. For a moment I watched him straining.

"All right, back up a little." I said finally, shoving at the door. After the kid's display of pushing with all his might I assumed the door would take some force, so I nearly threw it open into the face of an exiting customer. I made my apologies as the kid giggled quietly into his hand. We walked in together and were set upon by a matronly woman in a flamboyant sweater, who scooped up the kid and gave him a hug that looked like it hurt.

"Arthur! Thank goodness!" The woman gushed, quickly collapsing into a worried set of mumbles. Then she set the kid down, and his posture told me he was going to get a scolding. He braced himself. Sure enough, the woman didn't disappoint. The force of her lungs set my ears back against my head. I backed up in spite of myself. Two teenagers nervously edged past her to leave the store.

"There, Mum, I think he understands," a red-headed man with an amused face set a placating hand on the woman's forearm. The kid visibly relaxed.

"Don't you, Artie?" An identical copy of the first man appeared on the other side of the woman and knelt to the kid's level.

"Yes Gred and Forge," the kid parroted. I fought the urge to suck a breath past my molars. Not a good time for parroting, kid, not a good time at all.

"I don't know that he does," the woman began again, building up a head of steam. The identical men took her elbows, gently drawing her closer to the back of the store. In the process, one of them pinned a look on the kid, who dropped his chin and followed. Nobody had said anything about uncles yet, so I followed too.

"Are those your uncles, kid?" I murmured to him, having sidled up as we made our way down a packed aisle. He nodded morosely. "I'm going to go, then." I said, slowing my pace. The kid slowed his too, then latched onto my hand again. I sighed.

"But you're still lost." His voice drew the procession to a halt. The three adults turned to stare at us—or rather, at me.

"Kid, I'm really not," I protested, "and now that you found your uncles I need to go."

"No." The kid said firmly; he grabbed at my wrist with his free hand and dug in his heels. I leaned against the added weight to keep my balance and frowned. I fought the urge to sigh again.

The adults shared a brief conversation in low tones. Then one of the twins turned to me, a polite look on his face. "Can we help you?"

"Not really," I said, still trying to pry my arm away from the kid. The man suppressed a grin, watching.

"You're sure?" The other twin asked, an amused look breaking onto his face. The woman looked harried and confused.

"Well, you could…" I gave up on speaking to the twin—he was laughing instead of helping, anyway—and knelt to look the kid in the eye. "You've got to stay with your family, kid, not me." I told him, trying not to sound irritated. "I know you think I'm lost, but I'll be okay." The kid's face crumpled. "I need you to let go of me, all right?" The kid's hands loosened. He looked crestfallen. I drew my hand away.

As I stood the woman grabbed the kid's shoulder and swept him to her side. He continued to peer up at me with his huge blue eyes. The twin men looked at me keenly. I couldn't think of anything so say, so I just nodded my head at them and turned away. I made my way out of the store thinking Black's errand might be a little harder than I originally thought.

After an accidental detour to the seedy part of town—I swear there were more people looking like they were up to something than there are in your average boys' school—I made it back to the Leaky Cauldron. I reviewed Black's notes again, and decided I had what I needed to get to the house he described. I figured the sooner I made the attempt the sooner I'd be home with the dogs, so I left that afternoon.

Black's directions were annoying but clear. He'd chosen to editorialize about every street on his map. Several of his comments almost made me laugh aloud as I walked, which only enhanced the alarmed stares I was getting for wandering London in a big black cloak. I'm sure I looked like some crazy costume-wearing tourist trying to pretend Victoria still reigned. All the better to keep people away from me, I decided.

And it was with that comforting thought that I allowed my attention to slacken. At least, I think that's what did it. At any rate and for whatever reason, I made it to the massive and depressing house only seconds before I found myself levitated and in a body bind.

"Who are you?" A female voice demanded. I rolled my eyes around, trying to see the person flying my stiff body toward the house. I was inside before I caught a tiny glimpse of pink hair. I strained my eyes toward the flash of color; then I felt the muscles in my face release.

"Tavia Dempsey. Could you let me down?" I said in the most polite tone I could muster.

"No," the woman said quickly. "Why are you here?"

"A friend of mine said I could find some of his friends here," I said vaguely, hoping I hadn't blown the whole thing. I had to get her to let me down, though. I shot an annoyed thought at Black.

"What friend?" The woman said sharply. I sighed. I couldn't just answer that one.

"I can't…" I paused, trying to think of a less incriminating way to say what I needed to say. "I need to know I'm talking to the right people first."

"And who are they?" The woman immediately returned. She's got to be a cop or something, I mused, annoyed with Black all over again.

"He gave me some names. I've never met any of them." I said, figuring that wasn't traceable.

"Tonks? Is that you, dear?" I heard another female voice call in from an adjacent room. I tried desperately to turn my head, but it was no good. Then I processed what the voice had said. Tonks. That was one of Black's names.

"Wait," I said firmly. "You're Tonks?"

"What does it matter?" The woman answered with a suspicious tone in her voice.

"It matters, all right?" I said, starting to get annoyed.

"Fine. Yes." The woman said, probably confident in her bind's ability to keep me incapacitated. Well, she was right about that.

"You know the Black family?" I barely finished saying the family name when she cut me off.

"That's your friend. A Black." She said confidently. I had the distinct feeling I should've been more cagey.

"Yeah. That's my friend. Look, I don't want anything from you. I've got a message." I rambled, hoping to save my hide.

"Tonks, dear?" The other woman's voice called, closer now. I heard a door open. I tried to roll my eyes that direction, but again I couldn't make out much more than the ceiling. "What is going on here?" The woman demanded. I could hear Tonks' voice drop in volume substantially as she said several quick sentences. The woman's footsteps receded.

"You're going to stay here." Tonks said. She lowered me to the floor, still bound. Then she knocked me out.

* * *

All right: I'll try threats. Review or I'll set Tonks on you. 


	5. Lazarus Walks

**Lazarus Walks**

A bright light popped into my vision, quickly followed by a burst of color. I blinked hard, trying to gather my wits and remember what had happened just before the light hit. Nothing came to me. I continued to blink and my vision cleared enough for me to make out a cup of half full of a thick potion that a hand held just under my chin. Automatically, I took the cup.

"Drink all of it." I dragged my focus up to the source of the voice. A woman with brilliant pink hair held a wand on me, unblinking. Somewhere between coming to the house and winding up at wand point I'd lost my robes, too. I looked down at my arms, mystified. "Do it." The woman prompted, pulling my mind back to the cup in my hand.

"Why?" I looked up at her. My vision went to her pink hair. There was something to remember about that. It was important. It had to do with Black. What was it?

"It'll clear your head. Drink it." She repeated, her face starting to look irritated. I couldn't call the thought about her pink hair back to mind, and I wasn't getting anywhere without drinking whatever it was. I looked at it for a moment, trying to think of another option. Then I swallowed all of it.

Almost instantly I knew I'd done something very, very stupid. I recalled being incapacitated by this woman, figuring out that she might be one of the people Black sent me to meet, and getting knocked out cold. I reasoned that she'd taken my robe to remove my wand, and that meant she had all the notes from Black, too. On top of that, I felt funny. Really funny.

"Who are you?" The woman demanded.

"Tavia Dempsey." I said immediately. I must've looked as surprised as I felt. The corners of the woman's mouth twitched. "Why the hell did I tell you that?" I blurted, then snapped my mouth shut. That wasn't supposed to be out loud.

"You're under veritaserum. You'll tell me what I want to know." The woman explained. The stern look had relaxed out of her face somewhat. "Who sent you here?"

"Sirius Black." I blurted. I clapped a hand over my face. The woman, to my surprise, looked as startled at I was. I cursed into my palm.

"Sirius Black is dead." She said sharply.

"He's not." I contradicted, annoyed.

"How?" She snapped. A mixture of worry and surprise cramped her face.

"I don't know how. He's not dead. He found me. He sent me to deliver some information to his friends. He gave me their names and directions to this house," I rattled on, no longer trying to stop myself.

"Where did he find you?" She interrupted.

"Alaska. Where I live. He found me in a bar. Then he followed me home. He knew I was a witch." My renewed attempts to stop talking only succeeded in making my sentences clipped and awkward. Everything I said seemed to alarm the woman.

"When did this happen?" She demanded.

"I left two days ago," I said, "but he's been there a month."

"He's there now?" She cut in.

"Yes. Taking care of the dogs." I could feel some of the pressure to speak releasing; I focused on stalling.

"Where in Alaska?" She asked.

"Where the cruise lines go," I hedged, "in by the wilderness area. There's a town."

"That's enough," she said tersely. "Tell me where he is."

"No." I forced out, grasping my face with my hand. "I have to know who you are." I put my hand tightly over my mouth. She walked toward me, putting her face close to mine. She stared at me in silence for a few long moments. Then she stood without a word and walked out of the room. I dropped my hand to my side and panted, exhausted.

* * *

A knock on the door startled me away from my inspection of the small room. After the woman had gone, I started pacing the perimeter, trying to find a weakness. I found nothing. Without my wand I wasn't getting out of there. Damn Black and his threats. I kicked at one of the walls, frustrated at being tricked, hexed, and locked up. More than that, I was frustrated I wasn't able to kick Black himself. I walked toward the door to try the knob again, though I knew it wouldn't do much. Just as I arrived at the door, the knock sounded again.

"Miss Dempsey." A male voice called through the door panel. I backed up, surprised.

"Come in," I tried, feeling ridiculous. Who waits for an invitation to a room where they've trapped someone?

The door opened to admit a tall man with graying brown hair. He immediately struck me as someone who could be reasoned with. I hoped that wasn't just wishful thinking. He stood awkwardly in front of me, leaving the door open behind him. "I am Remus Lupin," he said quietly.

"You are?" I blurted. I knew that name from Black's notes. I winced at my own reaction, and the man's mouth twitched at one corner.

"Yes," he said, inclining his head. "We've read the information from Padf—Sirius. Charlie Weasley and I will accompany you to meet him."

"Wait," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "I don't really know you're who you say you are."

"That's true." He allowed.

"So how do I know you won't do something to him?"

"We won't." He looked mildly annoyed. I crossed my arms in front of me.

"I'll take you to Juneau and tell him you're there. That's all I'll do." I'd had some time to think about this. I figured Black would know what to do if they were already in Alaska, and these people had started to set off my internal alarms.

"Further delay is…" Lupin began, his words somewhat clipped.

"It's what you'll have to accept. If you didn't want me to be suspicious you shouldn't have attacked me." I said stubbornly. The man flicked his gaze to the upper corner of the room; his nostrils flared.

"Your things have been retrieved from the Leaky Cauldron. We leave in the morning." He said calmly, then turned to leave the room. When he shut the door, he didn't set the lock.

* * *

I still can't get the hang of this character. Sigh. I'd love some feedback. 


	6. Light Out for the Territory

**Light Out for the Territory**

After half a day with Charlie Weasley I knew I couldn't drop them at a muggle hotel like I'd originally thought. He was all right, really, and if he wasn't friends with that nest of lunatics I might've liked him pretty well. But the guy couldn't manage the muggle world to save himself. Lupin seemed to have his bearings pretty well, and Charlie might've been okay if he'd just kept his mouth shut, but he didn't. When we got to Juneau I decided I needed to have a talk with them both.

"Before we leave," I began, grabbing them by the arms to halt their progress away from the apparition point, "you've got to know some things about Juneau."

"Can't you tell us while we're walking?" Charlie cut in. I glared at him.

"No. Now listen." I commanded. Lupin looked from Charlie to me with a vaguely amused crease at the corner of his eyes. "Juneau's small, and the wizarding section is pretty much mingled with the muggles. You have to remember there are almost always muggles around." I looked pointedly at Charlie. "Got it?"

"Right," Charlie confirmed, his mouth twisted with what I assume was a suppressed desire to tease me for worrying. Lupin nodded with his usual distracted air.

"And it's not all witches and wizards in the wizarding section," I continued. "It's a lot of Alaskan natives, too. Different magic." I turned to Charlie again. "Most of them don't like questions about it."

"Right," Charlie said again, raising his palms briefly.

"Look, it's important," I protested. "You can't just call the muggle cops here." I turned away from them and headed off toward the Golden Spike, intent on getting them installed in a room and out of my hair.

"You act like we're going to start a fight, Tavia," Charlie said, sidling up to me.

"Call me Dempsey," I said shortly. "And don't start any fights, please." I sighed, not relishing the next turn in our route. It'd take us through the main wizarding street in Juneau. I had avoided it since leaving school—not graduating, by the way, just leaving—and I didn't want to go back. I closed my hand around my wand in my pocket and felt my shoulders tense.

"Don't like your name, eh?" Charlie continued, oblivious.

"Not really," I said, taking in a deep breath.

"What's wrong with it?" Charlie pried. I stopped dead. Charlie wandered ahead a couple steps before stopping and looking back at me.

"Just stop, all right?" I said, my voice a little hysterical. We stood on a street that still had a large crack where an earthquake had shifted the roadbed nearly a foot lower than the sidewalk. Lupin stood a small distance from us, eyeing it. Charlie's face changed quickly—he approached me like you'd approach a wounded animal.

"About your name?" He said quietly.

"All of it," I said, trying to get my voice back to normal. I cleared my throat. "Let's just get this done." I started walking again. Charlie turned after I passed him and fell in behind me, as did Lupin. I turned into the street and focused on the Golden Spike at the opposite end, training my eyes away from everyone else walking there.

I was relieved to see Julian still at the bar after all this time. He'd bewitched a couple rags to wipe the bar for him and was leaning heavily on the polished wood when we walked in. His dark eyes shot back to me after he'd glanced at my companions.

"Dempsey." He said, his accented voice rough and low.

"Julian." I crossed to the bar and clasped wrists with him. "Brother."

"Sister." He nodded to me. "Been a while."

"Yeah." I thought a moment but couldn't come up with a better answer. I tossed my head toward Lupin and Charlie, who'd come to stand beside me. "They're travelers. They'll need a room."

"You aren't staying?" Julian confirmed, raising his eyes to me again. I shook my head. "Got to get back to those wolves, eh?"

"Bears this time of year; you know that," I answered, a small smile on my face.

"You know you could stay." Julian said evenly. I snorted.

"The hell."

"You're as stubborn as your mother, little sister." Julian shook his head, his lined face moving into a tight-lipped smile. "Can't tell you anything."

"Maybe not," I said, "but you keep trying." I stepped forward to clasp wrists with him again. "You'll take care of them from here?"

"My word as an Indian," he said. I grinned at him, shaking my head. "You'll come back and visit an old man?"

"My word as a half-blood," I said. He smirked. We clasped wrists a final time. I turned away from the bar to face Charlie and Lupin. "Julian will get you rooms. I'll tell Black you're here."

"Right," Charlie said quietly. Lupin inclined his head with a look of concentration on his face. I nodded toward them, wrapped my fingers around my wand, and apparated to my cabin. A heavy silence met me on my arrival.

"Black?" I called, wandering into the exercise pen. Delphine and Blue trotted toward me. I scanned the rest of the pack as they approached. No black dog. "Black?" I called loudly, casting my voice against the wind coming in from the water.

I walked toward the side yard, still calling with Blue and Delphine in tow. The dogs had been behind the usual protective wards and an odd locking charm I'd had trouble releasing. My cabin had been even neater than usual. It was almost as though he hadn't been there. "Black?" I raised my voice as I rounded the corner of the cabin. The ground near the house was moist and soft, like it had rained. I scanned the side yard as I continued around the house. "Come on, you've got to be here," I muttered.

The dogs suddenly pricked their ears forward and raised their tails. I told myself it was just an animal after some kitchen trash in the compost pile and pressed forward to find Black. I rounded a corner of the house only to be herded back by Delphine and Blue, who shot ahead of me snarling and snapping. I caught the slightest glimpse of fabric rounding the edge of the cabin siding.

The dogs kept up their deep barking as they backed closer to me. I stood still with my wand in front of me, unwilling to apparate away from the pack. I had a glint of awareness I was in over my head—I registered it as the same feeling Black had initially given me. Yet I stood there, watching the dogs until they backed nearly into my shins.

Blue trotted to my side, forming a barrier that pushed me closer to the wall of my cabin. I turned and slunk along the siding quietly, pulsing a repetitive silent call to Black through my mind. Come back. Come back. Show me where you are. I struggled to even my breathing. I listened hard. I tensed my fingers around my wand. And in the quiet, I waited.


	7. The Veil of Light

**The Veil of Light**

When I was small my mother would wait for my father to leave the cabin for the day, and she would begin to tell stories. I think back on them now and wonder why I sat still for them. They were long, and full of names I'd never heard. I shouldn't have been able to keep them straight, as young as I was, but I did. I listened and I remembered. I remember them now.

So does Julian. We all do. If we're honest with ourselves, we don't have any illusions of believing much else. We have been here too long and have watched too carefully. Yes, I mean the "we" I'm only half part of: I mean the tribe. Not the Europeans like my father or the Americans from town. And no, there's nothing wrong with all those people. But we're not exactly like them, and we feel it. When you remember—even if your people remember in the form of stories—you don't want to put all your trust in the people who forget.

My father could never understand it. To him, the stories my mother told were just that: stories. Mysteries about the land and sea and light were for children, he thought, and he was no child. He was a man who believed light was energy, and that its actions could be predicted. The same went for water. He believed the world worked according to laws.

Of course, his laws were a lot like my mother's stories. It's all just a way to live with the world every day. It's a way to handle the disappointment of not having control over most things. That's how I see it. And I don't see a reason to fight about what the meaning of the sea really is, or why the northern lights matter. But I remember my mother's answers, and I remember my father's. Out here alone, I return to my mother's stories.

Earlier this year I watched the lights and remembered one of the oldest stories. In it, the lights form a veil that touches the frozen earth. When the two meet, their energies combine—the nurturing power of the earth and the energetic display of the sky. Both those things have a lot of meanings, but in this case they are the body and the energy that animates it. They form the link between those energies: the human. But it's not so simple.

A combination of earth and light is not what made humans in the first place. That's a lot more complicated. No, the meeting of the veil and the earth has a weaker and more troubling power. It calls humans back to their earth—their bodies—to finish the work the soul must complete. The veil of light returns the lost.

When I was young I loved to think about that story. I loved to think of my grandmother walking out of the northern lights one night, healthy again. I missed her, I figured, so she had to be lost. I told my mother once. She laughed. She said my grandmother would come out of the veil a dead body, and nothing else. Her soul was finished. It was the same, she said, for bodies. The school friend that died pinned under an overturned truck would never come from the veil. His body had died. The lost only counted as lost if body and soul were meant to be alive.

My mother never explained further, and I've puzzled over it since then. How could someone be lost if they'd never died?

Cramped against the cabin side with the dogs standing guard I found my mind returning to the northern lights, and the lost. I shook it away and retrained my ears on my surroundings. The slight breeze picked up slightly, and a loose board in a window frame began to tap against the siding on the far edge of the house. The dogs ranged slightly farther from me. Perhaps whatever they heard was moving off.

I thought carefully about the edge of fabric I'd seen rounding the corner of the building. It had been dark, I knew that. It flowed out behind the person wearing it. The only logical conclusion stopped me cold: a cloak. A witch? A wizard? I gripped my wand tightly, fighting the tightness in my throat. Where was Black?

If he'd been with the person wearing the cloak, he'd have made such a noise the dogs would've all come running. Black had to be fine. The dogs would've reacted. I felt some of the tension release, and as it did I became aware of the chill setting into my skin. I edged back around the corner where I'd come, and the dogs followed.

I made my way back to the exercise yard to put up Blue and set the wards. I led Delphine out with me, and marshaled my meager courage to walk into the cabin. Delphine stood next to me, her stance solid and her ears forward. She walked first into the cabin as the hinges squeaked open. She stood in the center of the room for a moment, sniffing the air. Then she walked to the hearth as usual.

I followed her and lit a fire, then sat to think about what I'd do next. Something was wrong. More wrong than Black's absence, even. My gut said something was very wrong. But Delphine lounged on the hearth, calm as can be. I stood up.

"I don't know what it is, Delphine, but damned if I'm going to sit here and wait for it to come to me." I declared, pushing my arms into my coat sleeves. I'd just slid my wand into the front pocket of my coat and began to fumble with the zipper when the cabin door opened. Black.

I took several quick steps toward him before I checked the urge to launch myself at him. We didn't know each other like that, and he had no way of knowing the horrors I'd worked up in my mind while he was gone. I stood still in front of him with my hands frozen mid-gesture at my sides. We looked steadily at each other for a moment.

"Where were you?" I said at last.

"In town." He said, still holding his gaze steadily on my face. He seemed to be coming to a decision. "The dogs needed food." I looked back at him for a beat too long before responding.

"Oh. Thanks for doing that." I said, my voice flat.

"Dempsey?" Black asked. He raised a hand and moved it slowly to my shoulder, which he gripped for a moment. I could feel the joints of the bones of his fingers.

"Something happened," I blurted. Black pressed his hand against my shoulder to move me toward the table. "Black, would someone try to find you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice sounding reasonable.

"Why?" He pulled out a chair and pressed me down into it. I felt foolish for being so emotional in front of him. I coughed and ducked my chin a moment, determined to seem more together.

"When I came back from Juneau I couldn't find you, and I followed the dogs thinking they'd find you. Blue and Delphine reacted to something near the corner of the cabin." Black's eyebrows drew down as I spoke. He leaned toward me. "We went around the cabin corner and I think I saw—no, I know it was there—I saw fabric going around the corner of the house. Like the tail end of a cloak." I looked at him again, determined to get some assurance or at least an answer from him.

"Stay here," he said, his voice low. He transformed into the black dog without waiting for me to respond. I opened the front door for him and watched him head into the yard.

"Delphine." I called. At her name, the white dog got to her feet and looked at me with interest. "Go with him," I said quietly, gesturing toward the door. I knew she didn't know that as a command, but she seemed to understand the tone. She left the front door quietly and slipped in the same direction Black had gone. I closed the door behind them and worried my lip for a moment before turning in the middle of the room. "Get a grip, Dempsey," I ordered myself.


	8. Shifting Fields

**Shifting Fields**

I replayed the argument. I sat there next to the same stool at the bar and felt the words like they were hitting my face. I felt the sound of his voice again, saw his skin flushed from running the perimeter of the cabin—flushed in human form from keeping his nose to the ground as the black dog. The black dog that faces down bears had gone into the blackness alone because he thought he should. I had told him to go.

And it was none of my business. I nodded at Brooks, who poured another and passed it across the bar to me without comment. I looked into the surface of the whiskey where my face was reflected. Disgusted, I threw my gaze to the TV blaring the national news down from the bracket holding the screen to the ceiling.

I tried to focus my mind on the anchorwoman's face and hear her words, but I heard Black's. _There was someone out there. You can't stay. I can't stay._ I heard my own: _then go. But leave me out of it. _I squeezed my eyes against the memory for a moment. _Just get out. I was fine here without you and I'll be fine when you're gone._

I put my elbow on the bar and drew my hand down my face, no longer caring what Brooks thought. I stared up at the woman speaking on the television. An image I couldn't make out floated in the inset screen over her left shoulder. She said something about London.

The camera flicked away from the woman. A night shot of the Thames filled the screen—for a moment it was inexplicable, as there wasn't a thing moving—and then the sky erupted. It was the veil. I stared. The veil in the skies over London?

I sat taller in my stool and listened hard. The lights had been seen over London and Sydney both. Scientists disagreed on the cause. Something about shifting magnetic fields, some claimed. A man in an ill-fitting suit with a chart made of black and white bands said something about historical shifts in the earth's magnetic poles. The north would become south, the south north. It had before, he said.

Another man walked on screen with an image of the earth. This one boiled with colors ranging from deep blue to orange. He set the image in motion as he spoke, again claiming the earth's magnetic poles were flipping; the colors broke into a confusion of ovals and swirls.

He paused the image and pointed at the islands of the UK, suddenly so small against the angry motion of the fields. _And here we see the anomaly…_ My hands clenched. The man rotated his image of the earth to show Sydney. _Here again, a similar pattern…_

"Guess the world's ending, Dempsey." Brooks slouched against the other side of the bar. His voice was flat, but his face showed some strain. I looked at him a moment.

"Rain of fire?" I said at last, aware I wasn't quite making sense.

"Better than famine, maybe." Brooks said. He picked up a stack of beer mats and moved it to a shelf behind the bar. "Maybe not. Better than war, though." He paused in his straightening. "Can't remember the other two horsemen. War, Famine…"

"Neither one of them was called 'light in the sky,' man," I joked feebly, my mind still very far from the conversation.

"I figure something else is going to get me first, you know?" Brooks said, turning back to me. "This is like being afraid of lightning when you could always walk out in the street and get hit by a bus."

"Not here you can't." I returned, trying to focus on what he was saying. The veil wasn't my problem, I told myself. Black wasn't my problem. London wasn't either.

"All right, all right." Brooks allowed, brushing his hands through the air. "But you hear me. You can worry about the lights hitting Australia or you can figure whatever gets you is going to get you."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," I smiled and raised my hands.

"Of course you aren't, Dempsey, you've got some sense." Brooks declared. I snorted and took a pull of my drink.

"I don't know about that," I said, shaking my head, "every time I leave here I halfway think a bear'll eat me."

"Pestilence!" Brooks shouted, slapping his palm down on the bar. I jumped.

"What?" I stared at him.

"Pestilence. That's one of the other horsemen." Brooks gave a satisfied nod.

"It isn't," I frowned at him. "War, Famine, and a flea problem? Come on, man."

"It is." He insisted. "And fleas carried the Black Death." So they did. I mulled.

"Think there're rats on the cruise ships?" I smirked at him. He snorted.

"They're called senior citizens, Dempsey. Please. Have some respect." Brooks grinned at his own wit again. He was half drunk on the job, I could tell, and his Boston accent was pulling to the surface. I tossed back the rest of my drink. I needed to get out before I was drunk enough to start flirting back.

"I'm out, Brooks." I declared, setting my empty glass on the bar and gathering my coat up from the neighboring barstool.

"So soon?"

"Yeah," I said, "We've got a load of rats coming in tomorrow." I shoved my arms through the sleeves of my coat as I walked toward the door.

"Don't get eaten by a bear," Brooks called behind me. I flipped him off over my shoulder as I walked out into the night.

The moment the door cut the stream of light from the bar off behind me my mind flew back to Black and the lights. I blinked hard, telling myself to focus on the walk and the woods. I was there without a dog, stupidly enough, and I had to get home without meeting a bear. "It's not my problem," I insisted to the night.

I walked toward the edge of town, my eyes flicking to the sides of the trail. All I had to do was get far enough out of town to be out of earshot of the residents. Then I could apparate. I felt for my wand in my pocket and gripped it for a moment. When I looked back up I knew something was very wrong.

An undulating curtain of color hung over the clear cut and extended beyond it. I blinked hard, hoping it'd be gone when I looked again. But it was there. It was all wrong: the wrong time of year, the wrong position, and most importantly of all the wrong color. It had a green cast. Against my strong attempts to stop it, my mind flew to my mother's stories. Green for return of the lost. The veil.

A sick feeling clawed up my throat. I shot a puff of air out my nostrils and strode forward, clutching my wand in my pocket. I pushed myself down the trail, careless in my speed, and apparated nearly mid-step. When I arrived at the cabin I strode for the exercise pen with my wand in front of me. The air was heavy and too warm, almost like breath. And there weren't any sounds coming from the pen.

So quickly I barely registered the change, another color joined the green. A glare of orange fading to black stretched up from the trees. Fire. A scream ripped out of my throat when I saw it. At the sound Blue and Delphine came to me. Their tongues lolled in the heat, but they pawed at my legs urgently. I followed them only a few steps before I saw it.

I felt another scream leave my mouth and I grabbed at the fur on the backs of the dogs' necks. The straw where the dogs usually slept was trampled heavily into the mud, and atop it were bodies. Corpses. Human and animal. My arms shook as I held the dogs. The rest of the pack laid scattered on the ground, their legs twisted and their tongues flat against the mud. The human bodies—maybe five, maybe more—rested in heaps as though they'd been dropped upright and had shattered under their own weight. My eyes flew to a sharp angle of a dry leg bone. The leg stood upright, driven into the mud by the force of the impact. The lattice of ribs had fallen around it. And on the ground I could tell the body had been wearing a robe.

I dropped to my knees, still holding my wand and the two remaining dogs. The heat from the fire increased against my face. With my arms tight around Blue and Delphine, I apparated to Juneau and the Golden Spike.


	9. The Western Tradition

**The Western Tradition**

I found them with Julian at the bar, attracting stares. The dogs ran to Black at once, leaving me trailing behind their tails, blackened with a fall of ash from the fire. I pushed my palm down over my face as I walked. It, too, was black when I took it away.

"Dempsey," Black said urgently, coming to full height from his stool. Charlie stood a moment later, his eyes wide. I saw Blue stretch his nose up gingerly, and watched Charlie's pale fingers stretch toward his muzzle.

"Black," I said, finally in front of him. Once I was there I had nothing else to say. I stood with my hands shaking at my sides. I could feel people in the bar turning to stare; the scratch of furniture against the floor told me some were doing so openly. "I—I need to talk to you."

"Talk, then." Black crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back to rest on his barstool again. Charlie darted a perplexed look at him. Lupin's face shifted more subtly, but it did shift.

"Not here, sister." Julian cut in, his diction clipped. He cast his eyes behind me as he spoke, and I could feel Delphine move to stand between my back and the rest of the bar. "Come."

"Please, Black." I said, grabbing a handful of Delphine's fur as I started to turn away. Julian beckoned from the opposite end of the bar. "Please." I felt tears start to sting at the back of my eyes; I swallowed, annoyed. "I need to talk to you," I repeated. My voice wavered, and Black stood.

"All right," he said at last. "You can say it to all of us, whatever it is." He tossed his head in the direction of Charlie and Lupin, who'd stood behind him.

"Fine, fine," I said quickly, casting a look toward Julian. He gestured again. "Delphine, Blue," I called. The dogs formed a wall between us and the bar as we walked toward Julian. He led us down a service hallway to a small door.

"It's the storeroom, sister. I know it's not much," Julian began. I caught his eye and shook my head. "You understand."

"I know. Tell them I won't stay, brother." He looked hard at me before turning to head back down the hallway.

"I thought you were fine where you were," Black smirked, leaning against the far wall of the storage room.

"It's on fire." I said quickly. Delphine sat next to me; I wove my fingers through her fur and she leaned her massive head against my thigh. Black stood straight again.

"Fire," Black echoed quietly, his eyes narrowing. Lupin watched us talk; Charlie sat on a crate with Blue's head on his knee. I looked around at all of them, and thought about what I was there to do. Then I did it.

I told them about the lights, the fire, and the dead pack. I told them about the story of the lost, and the corpses driven into the ground. As I spoke they exchanged glances and shifted guiltily. Black took to flicking his hair out of his eyes in a regular nervous rhythm. I told them about the lights over London and Sydney, and the men on the news claiming the lights would shift over the entire globe. All of them tensed at that.

"So you're saying there's a rain of corpses in London, Dempsey?" Black flicked at his hair again. His voice was teasing, but the smirk didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm saying it wasn't supposed to be true, Black." I snapped. "I'm saying it is, and I don't know what that means. But it might mean not all of them are dead. Understand? Not all of them are dead, Black."

"I do understand." He said quietly. I stared at him, suddenly understanding.

"You…" I breathed. He nodded. Black had come from the veil. He had been lost. Not dead; lost.

"None of that tells us what to do about it." Charlie spoke up. I started at the sound of his voice. He looked at me for a response.

"I don't know. I told you what I know." I said, shaking my head.

"Where will you go?" Lupin asked. Black and Charlie looked toward him, and then at me.

"Can't stay here," I said. "My cabin," I paused to swallow hard, "is probably gone."

"Why can't you stay here?" Charlie asked. I looked down and scraped the ball of my foot against the floor.

"I can't." I said shortly. "I'll find somewhere." Lupin turned his gaze on me again. I had the feeling he understood something about the situation though I knew he couldn't. Charlie looked at me like I was just being stubborn. We stood glaring at each other for a long moment. Blue got to his feet and stretched, then shook.

"Dempsey," Black said sharply. "What does 'truce breaker' mean to you?" I could feel the blood leave my face. My head snapped toward him.

"Don't ask about that." I said forcefully. "You can't ask about that. You can't talk about it here."

"Can't be that bad," Charlie began.

"It is." I cut him off. "I don't care if you think I'm crazy. Just don't talk about it. Especially not in there." I gestured toward the bar. "Don't even say it."

"Here." Black unfolded a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to me. Puzzled, I took it and tilted it toward the light. It was a letter—run of the mill, nothing special. Then, at the end, in a child's hand: the symbol that had a hand in running my family out of Juneau all those years ago. The mark of the truce breaker. Beside it a rank of rough figures, all brandishing wands, stood in a set of rays issuing from the mark. I raised my head; all three watched for my reaction.

"Who did this?" I said sharply. I pushed the drawing back at Black, who took it and folded it away into his pocket again. "Who?"

"Artie, my brother's son." Charlie said at last. I frowned, trying to call a memory to mind. There it was: the child.

"The little kid?" I asked, perplexed. "Blue eyes?" Charlie nodded with a tentative look on his face. I let my shoulders slump as I leaned against the shelf behind me. "He sees."

"We're not sure about that," Charlie began.

"He might," Black cut in. "He said there was an army and a truce breaker. We have to know who or what that is. You know, Dempsey, I know you do." He strode across the small room and stood close to me, his unusual eyes boring into mine.

"It's me." I said quietly. Black gave an almost imperceptible flinch.

"Sister," Julian's voice cut through the closed door. "Sister?" He asked, his tone urgent.

"Here," I said, putting my hand to the doorknob. Before I could turn it Julian opened the door. I could hear rustling and voices behind him.

"You've got to go now," he said quietly. His face looked older than I'd ever seen it. I extended my hand to him; we clasped wrists.

"Brother," I said quietly. I patted my thigh to bring the dogs to my side. From the corner of my eye I could see Blue lick Charlie's hand once before joining me. I looked back to them. "Please, just let it be. Don't ask any more," I said. Black looked as though he was about to speak. I pressed on. "Goodbye, Black," I said, stepping into the dark hall to grab the dogs and apparate.

In the blackness of the outskirts of town I hid my hands in my jacket pockets, wrapping my fingers around my wand. The dogs trotted quietly at my sides as I walked toward the store front. I was tired. My limbs were heavy from my earlier panic and the draining conversation with Black, but my mind was in worse shape.

I unlocked the front door and stepped as quietly as I could over the board floor. The pricing signs behind the desk glared in the low light. No dogs. No teams. How was I supposed to do this? No cabin, no dogs, nothing. I walked to the counter and set my elbows down, then let my face fall into my hands.

There were those in my family—and nearly all the people at the Golden Spike—who'd say this was nothing more than I deserved, being what I am. A truce breaker: that's what I am. I replayed the story in my mind. We were a band that split from the tribe to aid the light, according to my mother. We were a dangerous breed that failed follow the counsel of wiser heads, according to everyone else. Either way, we were hated. We had aided the light instead of staying out of the old conflicts, and we would pay. All of us.

And no, I'd never thought it was true. I never thought it was any more believable than the story about the veil of light and the lost returning, but there was Black. There was Black, plain as day, and there were all those bodies where my cabin used to be. And I was sure, all of a sudden, that these centuries-old stories mattered in my life. I picked my face up from my hands and took a deep breath. I could feel Delphine edge closer to my side.

"I don't know, girl," I said quietly. I lowered myself to the floor, where the dogs edged close to me in the slight chill of the night. "I don't see any other way," I said, putting my head against Delphine to go to sleep.


	10. Flash Over

**Flash Over**

The Order had received the information from the three wizards' time in Alaska with grave concern. Black's presence gave such weight to Dempsey's explanation of the veil that members instantly set to tracking the global shifts in its position. Though the Ministry had effectively suppressed the small number of inexplicable appearances in London, there was no definitive account of the phenomenon. No one knew if only corpses came from the veil. No one knew if more of the returned "lost" were now roaming London, and no one could say whether the dark lord's forces had been strengthened.

One of their best and only leads was still the drawing from Arthur, and Dempsey's reaction to it. It came down to this: they had to know about the truce breaker's role in the effects of the veil. Black returned to Juneau and the Golden Spike to find out.

"Julian," Black said impatiently, his voice becoming sharp. "I need to find her."

"You don't." Julian said, "And you need to stop asking around."

"Why?" Black snapped, bringing his hand down on the bar. The barroom was vacant apart from the two men, whose shadows rested weakly against the back wall of the bar in the late afternoon light. "What do you think you're protecting her from?"

"Listen," Julian said quietly, leaning toward Black. "She's a truce breaker—her family is a truce breaker family. You come in here asking for her; people think she's gone against the tribe just like her family. But she didn't. See?"

"No, I don't." Black said more quietly, flicking a strand of hair away from his face.

"You know about truce breakers?" Julian said quietly. Black shook his head and leaned in farther. Julian cast his eyes around the bar, then gave a wave of his wand that shut and locked the front door. He gestured for Black to follow him to the storage room.

The two walked down the narrow hallway in silence. Black's face showed his puzzlement and impatience. Julian continually cast his eyes toward the shadows as they walked. Once they were in the room, he cast locking and silencing charms before speaking.

"Our people do not get involved in your wars," Julian began. Black's eyebrows lifted fractionally. "Dempsey, her mother, they are from a line of truce breakers."

"I've got that." Black said, shaking his head with annoyance.

"That means they—the line—fought on the side of the light in a war. They were cast out. Some generations ago they were let back into the tribe, but nobody trusts them. Some people want them out again. So anybody who knows she's a truce breaker will think she helped you; you see? They'll think she did it again, just like her family." Julian continued to glance at the sliver of darkness under the door.

"I still need to find her." Black said, standing closer to the smaller man. Julian backed up a step.

"I don't know where she is now. She left before you did."

"She hasn't been back?" Black looked keenly at Julian, who shook his head. Black let out a quiet curse, then took down the charms on the door. He walked into the hallway and apparated, just as Dempsey had.

The black dog walked quickly down the street, keeping to the edge farthest from the chain of tourists returning to the cruise ship launch. At the storefront for sled rides he trotted up the steps, keeping his nose near enough to the ground to notice the layer of undisturbed dirt on the porch. He took a deep breath of the air near the door. Nothing. He shook, and trotted around the outside of the building to the rear pen. Empty. Behind the shed in the back Black transformed and pushed through the exercise pen gate. There wasn't any sign of food in the pen trough.

He strode down the street, his arms swinging forcefully. At the head of the trail to Dempsey's cabin he stopped short. Ropes died with bright orange tape hung across the trail between two still-standing singed trees. Beyond them the landscape was charred almost beyond recognition. Without a word he turned back toward the town and walked purposefully toward the bar.

"Didn't know you were back in town," Brooks said quietly, setting a pint glass into the rank of empties behind the bar.

"I haven't been here long," Black replied, darting his eyes around the empty barroom. He sat on a stool and leaned over the bar. "I'm looking for Dempsey," he began. Brooks' face fell. He dropped his eyes.

"Look, man, I'm sorry you didn't hear," Brooks said.

"What? What happened?" Black cut in.

"There was a fire out at her place, man." Brooks looked up at Black again. "I'm sorry," he said.

"She died?" Black said quietly, his inflection tilting upward with disbelief. Brooks nodded. He backed away a step in silence; the two men directed their eyes away from one another. Brooks poured two whiskeys and handed one to Black, who nodded as he took it. Black took a long pull of his drink and tilted his head back slightly. "They buried her here?"

"Yeah," Brooks said. "I mean, they scattered her ashes. That's most of what there was, I guess." Black winced. Brooks continued. "The dogs wouldn't leave her or let anyone get her remains at first."

"Where are the dogs?" Black asked, his voice low. Brooks finished swallowing the rest of his drink before responding.

"I've been feeding them so far. Don't know what I'm going to do with them," he said. Black finished the rest of his drink and set the glass on the counter decisively.

"All right," he said, nodding to Brooks. Brooks raised a hand to him as he walked out the door. Black strode around the building almost angrily. In the dark beside the side wall he became the black dog. He ran down the street to the north, baying loudly. At last, a bark answered him. He ran toward the sound, his mouth wide with the exertion.

Delphine and Blue whined piteously at the fence when he came into view. He barely bothered to look for bystanders before transforming. At the gate he blasted the padlock from the latch and let the dogs free. They leapt around him for a few moments, and he watched them. He crouched to the level of their heads and reached his hands toward them. Both dogs butted their muzzles beneath his hands, and he appeared to come to a decision. He reached past their heads to their collars and pulled them toward him. Grasping their necks, he disappeared.

* * *

This is it, I think. I'd like to know what you think. Thanks. 


	11. The World Upside Down

**The World Upside Down**

"I'm out of colors, Sirius." Artie turned his luminous eyes up toward him, and Sirius lifted his head to look back. The boy had sprawled on his stomach near the fireplace; Blue and Delphine had tucked themselves against his sides, just far enough back from his elbows to avoid being in the way of his coloring. He put his palms either side of his parchment and pushed against the floor, forcing his back into a more severe arch.

"You've got two right there," Sirius corrected. Artie rolled onto one hip, and the dogs shifted away from him.

"But I don't need these two," he protested. He snatched up the red and blue crayons Hermione had given him at supper and eyed them dubiously. "I need orange." Artie pinned his eyes on Sirius again.

"Right," he muttered. "Don't spill this." Sirius changed a pot of ink to orange and set an old quill down with it next to Artie's parchment. His hand lingered near the edge of the drawing. "What's this, Artie?"

"It's the world." The boy's voice was cross, and Sirius peered at the oval on the paper trying to make the lines on it resolve themselves into a geography he recognized.

"The world, eh?"

"It's not the land on the world. You can't see England." Artie's voice took on a pedantic tone Sirius most often associated with Hermione. He tightened one hand into a fist and instructed himself not to laugh at the boy.

"If it's not the land, is it the water?"

"No, Sirius." Artie pulled himself into a cross-legged position and bent over his drawing. "This is the world—this whole part." He indicated the oval. Sirius nodded. "Then this is where the green part is, but I had to color it red."

"The land's not the green part?" Sirius could've kicked himself for asking. He knew getting sense out of the youngest Weasley was like trying to get Buckbeak to waltz.

"No." Artie looked affronted. "The green is in the air. You should know."

"The air?"

"Yes. Like it was when you came back." Artie's unwavering stare disconcerted Sirius, but not enough to keep him from tracing his fingertip down the red lines slashed and curled around the oval on Artie's parchment. He could hear an echo of Dempsey's voice in his head: _who did this?_

"What are these blue lines?" Sirius tapped his finger on the paper. Artie turned back to his parchment and pointed out the blue grid he'd laid underneath the tentacles of red.

"Hermione said they're how you know where you're going." Sirius let out a puzzled noise. "They're not real lines, Sirius," Artie continued. "They're so you know how far north and south you are. Like on a map."

"Right," Sirius grunted. "Why'd you need the orange?"

"For the fires." Artie turned away then and took the quill in his hand. Sirius watched him add long strokes of orange ink flaring away from intersections of the red lines. He leaned back in his chair and reached across his book to curl his fingers around his tumbler of Ogden's. The cool paper underneath his forearm brought his attention back to the page he'd left.

He'd never have thought he'd be doing this. He'd come back to London with the dogs, and since then he'd ventured out of the house only long enough to get more books. He couldn't say why—at least, not well enough to say it to anyone other than Moony—but he was sure the veil had reversed before. He didn't know when, but he felt sure it had happened. He just knew somehow.

A snarling quiet laugh escaped his lips; he chased it with a swallow of firewhiskey. No need to scare the kid. But damn it. Damn it, there wasn't a good reason he was still here. He was sitting at this desk on a hunch, on a gut feeling, and he had been for weeks. And during all that time Artie and the dogs had been on the floor beside him. He was hardly even going on guard duty anymore. Just like the old times at the House of Black.

Another laugh, this one louder, broke through his self-recriminations. Artie looked up at him. The boy's hand was poised above the paper, where he'd given the world a crown of flame.

"There's not much on the North Pole to burn, Artie," Sirius nodded in the direction of the drawing.

"It isn't north anymore." Artie blinked once, slowly.

"What is it, then?"

"No, Sirius," Artie shook his head. "It wasn't ever north. This is the south now, but it will be north when the fires start."

"The world's going to turn upside down?"

"First some other things," Artie said. He laid the quill neatly to the side of the parchment and capped the inkwell before standing. He shoved the book to the side and put the parchment down in front of them before crawling into Sirius' lap.

"What other things?" Sirius' thoughts ricocheted through the information he'd been reading for the last few days: theories about magnetic fields, news stories on the lights over London and Sydney, measurements of magnetic activity.

"First, all the land stays the same. That's why I didn't draw it." Sirius nodded. Artie stretched his hand atop the parchment next to his drawing of the world. "Then the green lights come down. They did already, but there will be more."

"Where the red lines are?"

"Yes." Artie's voice was serious and his expression far more mature than his years. Sirius nodded again. "The next part is where it crosses."

"Where the veils cross?"

"Yes." Artie put the tip of his finger on one of the cross points. "At first it doesn't cross. At first there are just veils, together. But the veils move. They turn around." Artie stretched his fingers out over the drawing of the world and rotated it, bringing the crown of flame back up to the top. "When they turn, the veils cross on top of the other veils."

"They start in one pattern and end up in another?"

"No." Strands of Artie's hair adhered to Sirius' stubble as the boy shook his head. "They start facing down, and they end facing up."

"Facing north?" Sirius tapped the top of the drawing and raised his eyebrows at Artie.

"Yes. But they cross when they move."

"But the fire…"

"No," Artie cut Sirius off with a firm yank on his sleeve. "People come out of them, like you did. Some of them fight, but most of them don't."

"Who do they fight?"

"Not you." Artie shook his head. "They don't fight you."

"But who do they…?"

"They fight because the world is upside down. Some of them want it to go back the other way, and some of them don't. They have to decide."

"Who does?"

"The people from the veils." Artie turned to give him an exasperated look. "If they don't put it back how it was, there will be fires. Like this." He tapped the drawing.

Sirius let his eyes drift up from the drawing, unfocused. "People come out of the veils everywhere you drew them?"

"No, Sirius," Artie corrected, "just where they cross when everything turns."

"And that's the only place the people fight?"

"Yes," Artie smirked. He crossed his arms in front of him and peered up at Sirius. "There aren't people anywhere else."

"Did you have dreams about all this?" Sirius shifted Artie on his lap so they faced one another. Artie nodded. "Were they like your other dreams?" Artie shook his head.

"All these dreams start the same. Delphine and Blue take me to the lady. She tells me the stories." As Artie talked the unnerving maturity left his face; Sirius felt even more unsettled as he watched the change. The boy was a seer, maybe, but he was also just a little boy born into a war.

Sirius had been relieved at first, when Dempsey's dogs had bonded so strongly to Artie. Now it seemed like even they were getting pulled into the half-dark world of Artie's gift. Sirius shifted Artie again and pulled him tight to his chest. One of his small hands rested on Sirius' arm, the fingers curled in a babyish grasp. Sirius had a powerful urge to tuck him away somewhere—hide him. Hide him until it was over.

But Artie started to squirm in his arms. Sirius let go, and Artie slid off his lap to the floor. He grabbed the parchment on the way down. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"I want to draw on the back," Artie said. "Is it dry enough to turn over?" The young face looking up at him dried the words in Sirius' mouth. He just nodded, silent, and watched Artie arrange himself between the dogs on the floor again. For his part, Sirius dragged the book back to the edge of the table. He turned to an explanation of the magnetic poles, and bent to the task.


End file.
